


Her Present, Singular

by dornishsphinx



Category: AI: The Somnium Files (Video Game)
Genre: Background Relationships, Body Dysphoria, Canon-Typical Sexual Content, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, Zero Escape References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornishsphinx/pseuds/dornishsphinx
Summary: A version of Mizuki exists in the world of the horrible outcome required for a better timeline. That world continues on. Whether it’s better or worse than other parallel worlds, those who survived annihilation have food to eat, beverages to drink, lives to live, relationships to mourn and cherish, and futures to move towards.Or: six times annihilation route Mizuki did and did not share a meal with someone.
Relationships: Aiba & Okiura Mizuki, Boss | Kuranushi Shizue & Date Kaname, Date Kaname & Okiura Mizuki, Matsushita Ota & Okiura Mizuki & Sagan Iris, Okiura Mizuki & Mama (AI: The Somnium Files), Okiura Mizuki & Okiura Renju, Okiura Mizuki & Pewter | Amanoma Futa, Okiura Mizuki & Sagan Hitomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Her Present, Singular

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toe/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy, Toe! Happy holidays to you~ and thank you for giving me the chance to finally write for AI: The Somnium Files. (I'm pretty sure you have from your letter, but if you haven't, the Zero Escape references mentioned in the tags are mainly just the quotes and a few references which are much the same whether or not you've played them aha.) I loved all of your prompts, especially the Pewter & Mizuki one, as you will no doubt be able to tell <3

> _“It’s still not the best situation for those of us stuck in the north-west. We’re stuck in the reality where those ninety bikers died.”_

_-Virtue's Last Reward_

───── Ꙩ ───── 

**Lemniscate**

“I have a full schedule this afternoon, Mizuki. I can’t come out with you right now, sorry.”

Mizuki’s nose started aching, a light and phantasmal pain. She wrinkled her nose to try and get rid of it, like how yawning really wide got rid of headaches for a little bit. 

“I don’t mind. I can wait a while.” She kicked her legs forward and back against the sofa. It made a soft, thudding sound. “I’m helping Ota with his novel, anyway.” 

He didn’t really have much in the way of an actual novel, honestly. And they’d not made any progress today either, since he mainly just kept drooling over every single group that flashed up on the lobby screens, rattling off their hit singles and stats and, when Iris had shown up for her meeting with Daddy, how they were connected to the Illuminati or whatever. 

He really wasn’t slick at all. Mizuki had seen his weird romance scenes; she had the authority to say that. 

“Huh?” Ota turned his heart eyes away from Iris and her adorable new cat-ear headband. It was kinda weird she had a cat ear thing going on, if you asked Mizuki. It was totally super cutesy, don’t get her wrong, and Iris had gone on a screed about Egyptian goddesses and her stage name when asked about it on her last stream, but maybe Mizuki had just gotten so used to her own private joke of Date being her pet cat that to her, it was like Iris’ personality didn’t really fit the category of “cat-girl” all that well. 

Yes, Date. Really! Everyone who knew Date looked at her weird when she said it, but it was true. He sauntered in and out when he liked, slinked around to watch dirty videos when he thought she wouldn’t notice, and preferred to sleep on the couch instead of his own bed. And he was kinda the tsundere type, like cats were. 

She wasn’t sure why Daddy had sent her to live with him when she hadn’t even really known him before Daddy had told her that she’d be staying at his place from then on. At first she’d been a bit scared, but it wasn’t bad. She didn’t mind cats or cat-like people. They were way less needy and in your face than dogs, anyway, and it was pretty easy to get the drop on Date’s shins rather than getting bitten herself. Besides, he only ever gave her an annoyed look or praise for her technique when she did, rather than biting back. On the other hand, though, it meant that whenever he was out, she could never really be sure when he’d be back. And he was out now, giving people parking tickets or whatever else his boring job meant he had to do. 

At least there were people here, like the weirdo next to her. Even if Daddy couldn’t come out and have a meal with her, or hang out, it was fine. 

“Oh, I won’t be able to stay much longer either,” Ota said.

Or so she’d thought.

“O-oh. Really?” 

“Ugh, yeah.” Ota rolled his eyes, “My old lady wants me to work the evening shift. So annoying, it’s not like we get that many customers anyway, she could handle it herself.”

“Oh. Sure, I guess.” 

Mizuki looked down at the floor. It still glistened from the twice-daily passage of the cleaners even as the wetness evaporated in Lemniscate’s warm climes, carefully controlled so none of their idols would ever get a cold. It wasn’t so reflective that she could see herself in it, or Ota, or anyone, not even the bombardment of flashy screens showing off Lemniscate’s talent. 

The last time Mom had really spoken to Mizuki, it had been a wet day, with the rain bouncing down off the concrete like ricochet. She’d stared down at her in her usual, cold way. It had been a while since they’d last met, and all Mizuki could remember thinking was _she’s going to look at me like she hates me and I did something wrong._ But really, maybe she had been the one to do her Mom wrong, because there hadn’t been any hate; just an emptiness, a lack of any connection at all between them. She’d even had more emotion in her eyes when she looked at Mizuki’s pet cat human roommate, compared to her own child. 

She didn’t have to look after her and ruin her life anymore, Mizuki supposed. So, perhaps Mom didn’t have so much of a reason to resent her anymore. 

And then, the last thing she said, the only part which had held the slightest bit of emotion, had been directed at Date: 

_“You’re looking after her then. I—”_

“—See.” 

Mizuki blinked and peeked up at Daddy’s face, a little bit of fear clutching at her heart. His eyes weren’t empty, but they did look tired, in that way that always made her feel unreasonable about pressing him to spend time together. He glanced down at his new watch, sighed, and rooted around in his breast pocket for some paper notes. 

“I just… I really don’t have the time to hang out today, Mizuki. Go get yourself something to eat, at least. Sunfish Pocket is closed today, but there’s a sushi restaurant just around the corner. Can you make it on your own? I can get someone to go with you.” 

He pressed the notes into her hand.

At least Mizuki didn’t like that annoying Date. She was totally fine with making _his_ life more burdensome.

“No, it’s fine. I can go on my own.” Mizuki stood up, brushed down her coat and gave Daddy a mature look. “Really, it’s okay. I’ll go eat sushi, then head back to Date’s.” 

“Ooh, _Date,_ huh? He sounds cool! You’ll have to tell me all about him, Mizuki, message me later!” 

“He’s really lame, actually…” Mizuki muttered, but Daddy cut over her.

“Stay safe on the street, Mizuki. Any strangers come within half a metre and you get a bad sense from them—” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll stab ‘em in the gut.” 

Daddy chuckled. His eyes still had bags under them, but they seemed to get brighter with the laughter. Mizuki’s own eyes brightened too. To those around them, it was as though Renju Okiura’s eyes were golden suns and his daughter’s were dry moons drinking in the light. If he’d been closer and not at his office door waiting to bring Iris in for their meeting, Mizuki thought that he might have patted her on the head.

“That’s right,” he said. “Dig it right in and run really fast.” 

“Mmhm!” 

Mizuki nodded, and he nodded back before his face disappeared behind the door. Iris skipped through after him, chattering on about the new routine he’d concocted for her. His own voice was inaudible, but warm, and it faded as they made their way up the stairs.

The money Daddy had given her, though cold, made her palm uncomfortably sweaty.

When she got to the sushi restaurant, she sat down and kicked her feet out and back. She looked through the menu to see if they served anything she liked and managed to put together a few sparse items that wouldn’t make her vomit. When she finally ordered and was left alone while her rolls were prepared, she broke a pair of chopsticks and stabbed one into the air.

“Right in the gut.” 

She brought them down to plunder the pickled ginger container, savouring each burst of sour flavour on her tongue. Her grin had faded by the time the server came back with her rolls, and when she was done with those, she couldn’t muster the energy to trail back to Date’s flat. Instead, she left a message for the dumbass to come pick her up, since he had a car and all and she didn’t want to go outside into the new cloudy drizzle dripping from the sky. She leaned against the window and stared out while she waited for him to arrive.

**Matsushita Diner**

There was dust in the corners that Mayumi Matsushita had always swept obsessively. 

She pulled her face back from where it had been squashed up against the window-frame, a frown tugging at her face. There were no lights on in the diner, no movement, and not a soul had approached the place since she’d arrived, even though the sign hadn’t even been switched from _open_ to _closed._ Or perhaps it had been and someone, or the wind, had flipped it back. Nobody had been back to fix it in that case. 

“Oh, that place. Yeah, the owner’s been moved somewhere,” said one of the passers-by who actually stopped when Mizuki asked. “She was already getting confused, and then her son died. You know, those scary serial killings from, I don’t know exactly when, a few months back? He was one of the victims along with A-set, you know, the VTuber who got murdered? She kept yelling about witches and waving her knife around, I don’t think she understood where he went. It was kinda scary at the time, but with the context, I guess it’s pretty sad…”

The man sighed and looked up at the sign.

”Man, this place. I don’t know how it hung on this long.” ****

**  
Golden Yokocho**

Mizuki craned her head up to look at the painting looming over the purple fridge. She’d seen it before, obviously, the last time she was here. It was of some naked guy contorting, getting shot full of arrows. She hadn’t really focused on it then. There had been a case to solve. 

Now, though, the body contorted even further in her vision until she couldn’t tell if it was male or female. The colours went strange, and she couldn’t tell whether its expression was rapture or a gaping mouth of terror. The arrows bled down the sides, moving around with each minute flick of her pupils until she couldn’t tell where they had originally started. 

Mizuki was so transfixed that she only blinked when the great bulk of Mama’s bulbous chest sashayed insistently in front of it, blocking it from view. 

“Hey, now, weren’t you paying attention? Well, I suppose that some people want a gal just to stand here and be pretty. Oh well, I won’t blame you, no accounting for Okiura-chan’s type. Here is my apology drink, on the house.” 

“Oh.” Mizuki had’t followed half of that, and the change of subject made it even harder. “Because of last time? That wasn’t your fault, though. It was stupid Date who left me behind.” 

“Well, that is sweet of you to say. But I insist, for the sake of easing my poor conscience. Besides, I have to keep my younger clientele sweet on me, don’t I? Huhu.” 

Mama placed the drink down in front of her. Mizuki leant down to sniff it, suspiciously, and poked at the froth layered over the dark liquid. The foam clung to her finger, and when she sucked it off, it was faintly sweet. When she finally took the plunge and drank some, she made a face. 

“Hey now, honey. It’ll hurt my feelings if you say you don’t like it.” Mama paused. “Though if this is a _ploy_ to get the proper good stuff, you can _stuff_ it. I am not losing my license. _Even_ for a cutie like you who said she could pick me up and toss me into the air.”

“Huh?” She cocked her head. “Why would you want to hear something like that?” After all, Date was always annoyed when she said she could beat him up no problem, and others seemed unnerved.

“No reason, no reason. But what self-respecting gal doesn’t want to be made to feel like such a dainty flower? You understand, right?”

Mama winked, with a conspiratorial air that Mizuki as a self-respecting gal herself did not understand.

“Uh…” Still, Mama was being nice to her, from what she could tell, so she cocked her head to the other side and did her best to go along with it. She was here for advice, after all, so it was only polite to well, be polite. “I could… lift you with one hand?” 

“Ohh, you are just so _cute_! I want to pinch your cheeks!” 

The only warning of the incoming missile fingers she got on her radar was a flash of perfume and purple and parrot feathers, and then, even though it didn’t look like Mama had moved, a little area on Mizuki’s cheek about the size and shape of a thumb and forefinger coming together stung. 

“Ow…!” 

Mizuki rubbed her cheek, eyeing Mama’s fingers, cleaning and cleaning and cleaning that piece of bonito without end. Maybe it was different pieces and she was just putting them down and picking them up with some kind of ancient ninjutsu. 

“Adults are so weird.”

Even if it was a mutter, Mama’s hyper-sensitive information gatherer ears picked it up. 

“Oho, that we are. _I_ just don’t care to hide it.” Her coy look slid off her face. “Though I’m getting distracted. It’s not often I have such precious young things coming to me for information, but I shouldn’t give a bad impression of my professionalism.” 

Mizuki picked up the root beer float in her hand and kicked her feet back and forth, trying to figure out what she was supposed to ask to get the information she needed. Well, it wasn’t really information. More like advice, she supposed. Mama was the only person she could think of to ask about a thing like this. Well, apart from that other weird guy, who’d decided that the best way to look at what was going on with Date’s new body was—

**Sunfish Pocket**

“Perhaps… you can consider it in the same vein of a magical girl. Transforming from one form to the other.” 

Mizuki scowled at him. 

“That makes no sense. You’re talking down to me because I’m a kid, aren’t you? I don’t even like magical girls that much anyway. I don’t like Adorabbit or stickers or breeding clione anymore either. I’m past that stage of my life, I’m nearly _thirteen_.” She took a bite of her omelette with a loud _hmph_. “Adults are _so_ weird.” 

A flicker of amusement bloomed in Pewter’s eyes.

“Ouch. It’s true what they say about the sharpest tongues belonging to the youngest among us. Though I suppose you could also just take after…” His mouth closed, and he took a swig of his coffee before continuing on. “Well, I like them and I’m far older than twelve.” 

“A bit out of the main target audience, huh…” Mizuki narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I guess you’re one of that _other_ demographic.” 

Unlike Date, who would have given her a withering look, Pewter didn’t seem offended. A strange look came into his eye, somewhere between slyness and sorrow and something else she couldn’t place. Nervousness? But it didn’t seem like he was lying, so what did he have to be nervous about?

“Somehow I doubt it.”

He placed the coffee back down on the table. Mizuki cast a judgemental glance down at it. 

“Is that really all you’re gonna order?” 

“Should… I order more than this? I didn’t see a fixed price point, but then again, I’ve never been to this particular café before. I avoided it, actually. I didn’t even plan to come here, but I passed by and…” There was an odd string of tension in his frame, and his irises flicked towards a point above the counter before moving back onto her. He smiled. “What do you recommend?”

“Something expensive for sure. Otherwise the mermaids will put fugu poison into the next coffee you order.” 

“They’ll… poison it.” 

“Yup.” Mizuki smirked and waved her trident around like a royal sceptre. Its points twirled in a lemniscate. “It’s also an option on the menu. The mermaids have been really excited to try it out, but nobody’s bought it yet.” 

Pewter reached out without taking his eyes off her, picked up the menu, and flipped through it. When he reached the shiny new option, he raised his eyebrows. 

“ _The Merpeople’s Revolution Surprise, 5000 yen. A mermaid will lightly poison one of your dishes and laugh cruelly as your life slowly fades from your kingly body. Attempted resuscitation costs an extra 500 yen. Mermaid screaming ‘Death to the Tyrant, long live Democracy’ in your face while you collapse, an extra 1000 yen._ ”

Pewter brought a finger to his mouth. He seemed more intrigued than scared. 

“So, this is the kind of thing they do here. And fugu poison, going all in with the nautical theme. Well, your grandfather was raised by dolphins, after all, it only makes sense.” 

Mizuki blinked. He knew about that? She hovered, trident jabbing at the ground and leaving grooves in the laminate as she tried to figure out what to ask next.

“You were there when he brought me back, weren’t you.” 

Pewter nodded, somehow flowing through the conversation shift easily, as though he could read her thought processes better than she could. Well, that was his job, she guessed. Kinda, at least. She sure hoped nobody got him as a psychiatrist, or that at least he’d change outfits first before taking on any clients.

“That’s right. How are you feeling? No lingering effects, I hope. From the Psync, and from…” 

Yeah. Face to face like this, Pewter was a pale, off-putting sort of guy. His clothes probably didn’t help, though at least he’d taken the coat and visor off at the table. He had a weird stare too. Not weird like how Date got when a pretty woman came on the TV, but it was an intense thing. Even so, there was something in his aura that put her at ease. Something that said the question was genuine. That there really was some concern driving his question and not just pleasantries. 

“I’m fine. It’s just. Were you there, when Date and that… that murderer…” 

“Ah,” said Pewter. “You’re worried about him.” 

“Am not!” 

Mizuki’s mouth flew open in outrage. Worried! As if! 

Pewter got the same expression back on his face as when he was contemplating the Glorious Merpeople’s Revolution. Then, he moved his finger like he was giving a lecture to a room of faceless students, around and around in a familiar pattern. “Well, the consciousness transfer during the Psyncing process was as stable as can be expected when one is doing it under duress. There was some weakness immediately afterwards, but that was as much emotional as physical, and none of it affected the body’s brain function.” His voice was careful around the words ‘the body’, like he was holding them in pietà. “Date will be fine. Eventually. He already is, physically, now that the fractures have healed.” 

Before Mizuki could interrogate him further, Amame swished with a big smile.

“Helllllooooo, honoured Sea King! One special deluxe edition Dragon’s Palace pasta and one uber special deluxe Ryugu water, coming right up! Thank you for your order, oh Great and Old One!” 

“Oh? I think you have the wrong table—” 

She slammed down a big plate of pasta cheerily, pouring enough extra-fiery sauce on top that Pewter would either drown in it or burn from the inside out once he started trying to eat it. Then, she put down a glass of seawater. Then, somehow more side dishes than she had space on her arms. She must have been keeping them warm in the Sunfish Pocket dimension. Or maybe she had hidden tentacles. 

“ _Enjoy!_ ” 

“I…” Pewter seemed to be at a loss for words. He raised his hands, as though surrendering to his delicious enemies. “I… don’t think I can finish all this.” 

“The Sea Kings are equivalent to Poseidon and Watatsumi in power, and deities through their mermaids’ humble service and devotion!” Amame chirped. “If you burst, or burn, or choke to death you’ll just come back to life with the power of belief.”

She stared him down, smiling placidly. Mizuki smirked over at him.

“I _told_ you that they hate cheapskates. It’s fine, you can afford it, right? I mean, those look pretty expensive.” 

Mizuki gestured at the expensive looking pair of cufflinks on his wrists. Honestly, they really didn’t match the vibe of his outfit at all; compared to his mad scientist cosplay, they were the sort of outrageously understated type that you could smell a couple of generations’ money off. Really, there wasn’t actually a place for them. They’d just been pinned there, thoughtlessly. 

Pewter’s arms twitched, though he did not hide them. Instead, one of his hands came down from surrender so he could hold the other between his fingers. They smoothed around the edges. 

“These... were a gift.” He didn’t quite meet Mizuki’s gaze. “From someone who was very dear to me.” 

He smiled again, but this one was more strained.

“Oh.” Mizuki bit her lip. “Well. Okay, fine. Let’s say that it’s free so long as you tell me everything about what’s happened with Date. And no weird magical girl explanations, okay?”

Pewter slowly nodded, though he did not let go of the cufflink. “Very well. It will be a rather long explanation, though.” 

He reached out, took the glass of Ryugu water, and downed it in one gulp before Mizuki could warn him to stop. There was a long, long pause.

“Mizuki. I believe I have found the poison.” 

**Sagan Residence**

Hitomi Sagan had always been kind. 

She was Daddy’s friend, and they were so close that Daddy had even made his family move so that she could be Mizuki’s teacher. Mom was usually pretty cold, but even they got along just a little, which was more than she did with most other people. 

Maybe that was because her teacher often took Mizuki off her mother’s hands. Whenever Daddy was busy, or when Mom didn’t want her to exist, she could always head there after school. Hitomi, her pupil and her Iris had sat around the table and shared a meal together, many times. One day, after a big meal of okonomiyaki during which Iris had gone on and on about some uncle of hers, Mizuki’s teacher had told her that she’d only been able to buy the house thanks to help from Daddy and the Okiura family’s money. There was no need for her to ever feel unwelcome under her roof, she’d said: Mizuki was her pupil, Renju’s daughter, Iris’ little sister, an Okiura and a sweet girl, and so belonged there five times over. 

When Mizuki finally stopped avoiding any routes that took her past the Sagan household a year after the resolution of the New Cyclops Serial Killings, there was a _For Sale_ sign stabbed into the soil of the front yarden, like an pick into hard, cruel ice.

**Date Residence**

“—Sure was hot.” 

Mizuki, both hands on the straps of her backpack, ready to get in and relax before getting down to studying for entrance exams, stopped in the corridor and rolled her eyes. Date would always be Date. She took a step back and swung her foot to and fro, getting ready to kick the door in. And then his stupid head, maybe. 

“Date, are you serious?” 

“What? She was always going on about how they’d be even bigger if you ripped her clothes off. It’s not like it would hurt to take a peek. I’ve already been in the shower so many times already, how is this any different?” 

“Da _te_!” 

“Come on, there’s no reason to get mad,” he said, his voice floating through the door. “Like she wouldn’t have checked out my dick in a heartbeat if she got my body. Who am I kidding, she probably had a spy cam in the men’s bathroom. _Oh, I just read your physical exam results_ , my ass.”

There was a long pause after that. Mizuki’s foot paused too, midair. The chatter didn’t start up again though, rendering sneak attacks harder, so instead of breaking in and calling him a pervert like usual, she grasped the tarnished bronze door handle and carefully opened the door.

Aiba, the squishy tardigrade-looking thing that had once been Date’s eye—Mizuki had learnt a lot of things recently—was standing on the table. Date, dressed in his ill-fitting old clothes, was in front of the mirror. She had to remind herself that it was Date, though. His dark hair and curvy body were pretty much the opposite of how he’d used to look, even if he’d cut the former and tried to disguise the latter. Especially since the first time she’d come back to Date’s flat and he’d sent a normal jibe of greeting her way and she’d flinched at hearing one sent her way in a low, sultry voice. 

It would make living with him awkward if she didn’t get used to it sooner rather than later. That’s why she’d been out asking about how to deal with this weird situation. Not because she cared about his stupid feelings, even though they had obviously been hurt. She didn’t care about making stupid Date’s life harder. He deserved it, really.

Anyway, it didn’t look as though he was having too good a time with his voice either.

“What the hell am I doing? This is exactly the plot of some of the best mags I have, and she’d have told me to go the hell for it, so why do I feel _bad?_ ” 

“The medication—” 

“Enough about the medication.” He pulled back from the mirror, clenching his fist and laying it there, his face up against the reflective surface, staring into the woman’s face. “If that wasn’t me, then what _else_ was never me?” A look of horror crossed the reflection in the mirror. “ _Do I even like porno mags, Aiba?!_ ”

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t too far gone into melancholy if he still had his usual inane priorities straight. 

“I am 99.92% certain that your cerebral functions will still allow you to enjoy them even if that is not the case, given Boss’ own extensive collection,” said Aiba, with the same sort of serious tone she probably used for cases, and Mizuki could not believe that Date, who, of all people, was the only one in the world who had a piece of technology like her, he used her for questions like _that_. “I can only imagine the sort of literature she kept in her own home given what she kept in her own office.”

“That’s just it, Aiba. I _know_ what she kept in her house. Just like I _know_ she’d have been fine with…” He pushed his eyes against his forearm. “There’s such a tiny bit of her left here in my memories. Should I block it out to respect her privacy? Can I, without that medication?” He laughed, without a bit of humour. “Anyway, I’ll end up doing both if parallel worlds exist. The other versions of me must be having such great lives, while here, everything is…” 

Aiba’s single golden eye stared at him from the table and eventually, with a deeply fed up tone, asked him: “... _What_ are you talking about?” But before Date could answer the obviously rhetorical question, she gasped and wiggled in alarm. “Date! Behind you!” 

Date swivelled on one heel and, barely, caught Mizuki’s fist in his own. 

“Hey! Mizuki, what are you—huh?” 

Date looked down with a stupid expression on his stupid face, but Mizuki couldn’t see exactly how stupid it was squidged into his chest. 

“Stupid old man.”

Date sighed. His expression turned gentle, and he patted her shoulder. “Punk-ass brat, that hurt. ...Huh, it really did hurt. I thought these things would be more like an air-cushion.”

Mizuki extracted herself from the air-cushions to glare up at him.

“I guess this is the universe’s way of paying you back for staring at Ms Enshu’s so much. Serves you right!” 

“Uh, who?” 

“Wha—” Mizuki was surprised, and then infuriated. “Date, you were harassing her all this time and you didn’t even bother to figure out her name? You’re the worst!” 

“I did not _harass_ anyone. I’m a detective, it’s my _job_ to stop women from getting stalked by harassers.”

Aiba held up one of her stubby little arms as though she’d been called on in class.

“I can confirm that 76.93% of all Date’s interrogations with women end with her wanting to stab him in the neck, compared with 80.53% of men. Remarkably gender balanced, considering his completely terrible manners.” 

Date turned his unamused expression to Aiba.

“Wha—there’s no way it’s that high. And just how is ‘wanting to stab in the neck’ a quantifiable category?”

Aiba somehow managed to strike a smug pose, her little stubby arms on her pudgy hips, projecting the aura of a smirk, if not the reality. “My new update includes qualitative/quantitative/scientific data splicing capabilities. Isn’t it great, Date?!” 

Date gave her a withering look. 

“Right, sure, why not. You should have had those anyway.” 

Their sniping flickered on, but then it petered out after a few more rounds. Both of their heads, or the vague area of a head in Aiba’s case, swivelled to look at Mizuki. She sniffed. Her nose burnt. 

“What? What are you both looking at?!” 

“Let’s order in. Aiba.” 

“On it.”

When the food arrived, there was a heap of cucumber, egg and natto rolls. And an even bigger heap of pickled ginger. 

───── Ꙩ ───── 

> _“I guess I mean to say… 'happiness is closer than you think.'”_

_\- Zero Time Dilemma_


End file.
